11,957. RUDIMENTS, pt.765

RUDIMENTS, pt. 765

(the same, and tired, and lame) pt. Two

I won't say the settling in

was easy, but it was. I had

no problems, not even with

the cold. You know how

people say 'it came and it

went,' about things. Well,

this kind of cold came, but

never went. It seemed to be

just a dry, high, icy cold air,

which crystallized early, each

night, whatever moisture may

have been in the air, so that

very gently it would just seem

to  -  sort of  -  be snowing

but it wasn't that at all. Ice

crystals of a most dreamy

sort would just float down and

by 2am the whole world had

this shiny glint, a bejeweled

look. Something I'd never

beheld before. It lingered into

morning, but the sun, even

if cold, would burn it off

quick enough. It happened

most every night, when there

wasn't some other weather to

interfere with it, through

January and February. But

don't get me wrong, there

came plenty of storms to

interfere with it too. Nice

is nice, and beautiful is

beautiful, and dreamy is

dreamy too, but the problem

I still faced was lack of

heat. It was a big old house,

three levels to it too, and it

got cold in those rooms and

halls. There was no heater

circulation of any sort. The

only 'heat' that came up was

whatever meager bit floated

up, and even that was soon

dispersed. I found out later

that the 'problem' was that

the huge unit in the basement

had been a huge, firepot

coal furnace, always burning

and being banked for the

Winter months  -  but the

conversion that had occurred

for oil burning had severe

deficiencies. They'd simply,

whoever had done this, emptied

and hollowed out the fire-chamber

and in the space installed an

oil burner unit  -  it burned fuel

OK, and had a thermostat and

all, but, as inefficient as it all

was, the mortal flaw was that

they'd NOT installed any fan

or blower unit to carry all this

heat upstairs  -  what's called,

thank you, 'forced air heat.'

Like normal people have  - 

where something actually

comes out of the grate, and is

warm. In this case, whatever

'floated' up is what you got,

no force to it at all, and by

then it was hardly even warm.

It was really bad. The heating

guy that came over just shook

his head and said, pretty much,

I was sunk unless I chose to

replace it - and, scratching

his head  -  he looked at me

and said....'But, as I see it,

with a wife and six-month

old baby arriving here any

day to live  you've got little

choice.' And then, (cracker

humor), he smiled and ruefully

said, 'unless you like 'em

freeze-dried; 'cuz we got

three or four good months

of this real cold yet to come.'

-

As it turned out, I made the

arrangements and there was a

crew in soon enough, making

the new installation of an

insulated burner pot, a new

burner and blower system,

and all new basement ductwork

too. Did the trick. Things turned

around by two weeks later. My

outraged in-laws, who basically

thought at this point I was out to

kill their daughter and grandson,

co-signed by mail the contract

and deposit for the new heater,

and I paid $38.03 a month, for

many months on that. Equally

outraged at my story of the

kitchen floor, they forked over

the 700 bucks needed for that

too (1971 prices). New kitchen

flooring, 'underlayment' included

(weird-ass word, I'd never heard

before. It's the 'flooring' under

the flooring), and a tiled floor

covering too. All pretty happy,

and no more hole-to-the-outside

in the kitchen floor either.

-

The entire place, ever so slowly,

began making some sense and

taking shape. At the other end

of that same spectrum of course,

problems proliferated. The

in-laws did finally come up

to make sure everyone was still

alive. Stayed a weekend. Came

with a bank book too  -  didn't

like the old stove, needed for

sure a washer and dryer, and

throw in a small-time refrigerator

as well. The three guys down

at the Troy Appliance Center

were just about jumping out

of their shoes The in-laws left

by Sunday late-afternoon and,

sure enough, by Tuesday all

that new stuff was in place too.

Pretty cool. When God gives

you a lemon  -  or however

that phrase thing goes, you

make a Rolls-Royce. Well,

you know what I mean.

-

Have you ever gone to sleep

in the dark and then awakened

some place you've never been

before, and it's light out? It's

the next morning and you

can hardly remember how you

arrived there, in the dark, late

at night the night before? It's

happened to me any number

of times, in lots of different 

places too -  towns and villages,

cities and countryside. But it's

the ones in the country that

really carry the weight  -  the

morning arrives and you step

outside or look at a strange

window and all you see is what

you've never seen before : woods,

trees, angles of sight unfamiliar.

The air is different, all the sounds

carry differently, you know you've

never been here before, because

it's all so strange and new, but

no matter. It has the feel and

sense of some other place you

HAVE been  -  like it's all coming

back, and home, to you. That's

what I felt every day, for quite 

some time too. I realized that's

the Spirit sensing things and

not the body. The Spirit senses

everything. The body is old

and lazy; by any other means

it makes all other things seem

the same, and tired, and lame.

It took a long time for me to

shake that feeling and get some

grounding into where I was. It 

was like learning a new language 

too, and  I hadn't really much 

going on that first Winter. I

pieced together a few jobs, a

little bit of a salary here, some

more there. I'd drive up to Elmira,

where I also had a job, and come 

back when it was already dark.

Winter days were short, and

darkness set in early, aggravated

by the hills around us, which shut

out the sun probably even an hour

earlier than normal. The only

real 'daylight' time I had that first

Winter was on the weekends.
There were always things to do.
Trash to be burned (there was a
circular fire-burn area on the front
left of the grass; out there everyone
burned their burnables in open fires).
Cans and stuff went to the local dump.
Any number of dead trees across the
far fields could be seen  -  I left the
majority. Birds liked them, to perch
on, and there was one that would
get an owl. Here and there I'd chop
one down to see what it was like to
do that (Henry Ford : 'Chop your
own wood, get warm twice').